Rick and Ann Yoder's elegant, 13-year-old, pan-Asian restaurant is one of the most popular restaurants in Seattle. Both in its former location on Western and its spacious new home (since 2000) on Third and Union, this veteran has consistently packed 'em in every night, weathering an aggressive surge of trendy competition during the city's late-'90s boom and managing to hold steady post-boom. Foodies love chef Jeem Han Lock's creations; food critics rave about the place; it always ranks high in tourist guidebooks, and holds the number one spot on the Zagat Survey's "Seattle's Favorite Restaurants" list.
And still, I don't get it.
The food is fine: always fresh, often good, confidently rendered, beautiful to look at. And yet, I always walk out feeling like a chump--like I've somehow been duped into thinking that I just spent a healthy chunk of change for a Very Special Experience when, in fact, I've been fed very simple meats, seafood, and vegetables prepared with very simple methods.
Don't get me wrong. Simple is great. I love simple foods. But what is nagging and unsatisfying and anticlimactic is that at the core of all the hype and the glowing reputation is an unabashedly basic ethnic cuisine that you've been able to get in the International District for years, with less pomp and for less money.
Eat at places in the I.D. such as Hing Loon, L.A. Seafood, China Gate, Tai Tung, or Honey Court, and you'll find wok-seared seafood, exotic soups, traditional Peking duck--treats that rival Wild Ginger's famed Fragrant Duck or Black Pepper Scallops in flavor and value. Check out other local pan-Asian luminaries (Monsoon, Racha, Chinoise, Dragonfish, Roy's at the Westin Hotel, or Noodle Ranch, just to name a few) and you'll find the same "eclectic" interpretations and precious worship of everyday Southeast Asian components--fish sauce, lemongrass, chili oils, curries, coconut milk--that Wild Ginger indulges in. (Panang beef curry, $17.95, is described on WG's menu as "a dish that typifies the sensuality of Thailand. Slices of prime rib-eye steak are served in a seductive curry of cardamom and coconut milk with Thai basil and fresh pounded peanuts.")
It's not that I have a problem with high-end food. Lord knows the way I feel about my dinner is the same way some women feel about Prada. But when I order a soft-shell crab appetizer, and a SINGLE crab appears, sautéed with just garlic and shallots and garnished with a few wisps of cilantro, and I am charged $14.50 for it--one! normal-sized! appetizer!--I can't help but feel indignant. (The average wholesale price for soft-shells on the West Coast right now is about $3-$4 apiece. I'm aware of the realities of food cost and running a profitable business, but still.) While it is flavorful, it is not the most amazing soft-shell crab I have ever had. At $14.50 apiece, it needs to rock my world.
This is the thread that runs through my WG experiences. The trademark satays--glorified Indonesian street food--are succulent but unremarkable chunks of marinated, skewered meat ($2.75-$5.75 per stick), served with dipping sauce, a cube of rice, and excellent pickled cucumbers. The aforementioned Fragrant Duck ($14.95), tender and crusted with Sichuan peppercorn salt, is solid, but again, not spectacular; the same goes for Tuna Manada ($27.95 for eight ounces)--ahi tuna with a spicy Indonesian candlenut sauce in coconut milk. I did, however, love the whole Dungeness crab ($31.95), served "Singapore-style" with ginger, garlic, chilies, black beans, and tomato sauce, and the side of crunchy snap peas sautéed with garlic oil ($9.95!!).
So why does Wild Ginger work so well for so many? What are you paying for? A superb wait staff; flowery prose on the menu; a non-threatening urban atmosphere; artful presentations on your plate. Perhaps you're there because you like your ethnic food nice and safe and non-ethnic, explained in patient English. In a city that prides itself on pan-Asian chic, you're obviously not alone.
Wild Ginger
1401 Third Ave (Downtown), 623-4450.
Mon-Sat 11:30 am-2 am; Sun 4:30 pm-2 am.
